Sunday night, Tim and I got the opportunity to attend a private event at Porta Via Italian Kitchen—Nashville’s source of authentic Neapolitan pizza (and you know how much I love that, whether in Chicago, in Seattle, in Chattanooga, or now here at home).

For us, the event came at a pretty perfect time, too, because, take my advice, everyone should get a night of free pizza and wine in the weeks immediately following their engagement (i.e., the weeks following a realization that now you have to plan a wedding!). With the flurry of emails and inquiries lately (which, I know, are the things many girls dream of), the very thing we needed, I think, was a chance to sit down and eat the food we both called our favorite before we’d even met.

Sunday’s event was arranged to celebrate Porta Via’s recently acquired official VPN certification, something you can read more about here, which essentially means proof that their Neapolitan pizza is the real deal: made with the high-quality Italian ingredients, flash-baked in a white-hot brick oven, created without any mechanic preparation—just human hands tossing and pressing the dough.

There were pizzas with caramelized onions, pizzas with mushrooms and green peppers, a traditional margherita the moment Tim asked about one. Oh, and when we first walked in, we tried a couple slices without red sauce, which were topped with sprigs of rosemary and salt; these became my new favorite, and not just because we’ve been loving rosemary ever since the sourdough we ate in the park.

As is typical of Neapolitan pizza, Porta Via’s crusts are chewy and charred, very thin (although not as thin as what you’d find at Chicago’s Spacca Napoli or Nashville’s City House), bearing the marks of dough that’s been thrust into a wood-fire oven more than 700 degrees hot.

And after we’d eaten our fill of pizza (which for me meant five slices—yes, five), we were given a glass dish of coffee gelato from the gelato bar right by the entrance.

It was a simple night—just a bunch of pizza lovers gathered together, in a restaurant tucked away in an unassuming strip mall, with live music and free samples and a couple announcements—but it was a simple night we were glad to have, glad to be given.

It was the kind of night that made me wish we could just have pizza at our wedding.

Oh, and for those of you who like hearing these things, we have a date! (look out, October!) We almost have a photographer! and once we figure out the little details of location and food, we’ll be well on our way. Chicago-area outdoor venue ideas are welcome!

Sunday night, I had pizza at Burt’s Place in Morton Grove, after calling in our order four days ahead of time, right down to the sizes and toppings and what time we’d arrive, because, if you don’t know this already, Burt’s is not just any place—it is a landmark, made famous largely by Saveur Magazine and Anthony Bourdain. It’s kind of understandable that such a place would have some rules—and Burt’s does. The biggest, most important rule is very simple, but it’s vital: you must call ahead.

I was there with my friend Jacqui (who was the first person to have told me about Burt’s, way back in a January comment); her fiance, Murdo; our blogging friend Whitney; and her boyfriend, Dave. We’d known about the rule (it’s recommended that you call days or sometimes weeks in advance), not just because Jacqui had been before but also through online reviews, which, by the time we met Sunday, it seemed most of us had read and, honestly, been a little intimidated by.

The rules are designed for a purpose—the deep-dish Chicago-style pizzas take a while to cook, and it makes everything more efficient if they can have your food ready when you arrive. Burt’s Place is small—a little brown building with the look of a two-flat, set at the end of a quiet, residential street, unassumingly, enough so that you almost wouldn’t notice it. Inside, the decor is eclectic—dolls, vintage telephones, a few framed articles that have mentioned the restaurant.

When I walked in (I was the first to arrive from our group), there was only one couple eating, and Burt—the Burt, who’d talked to me on the phone just a few days before—was out there in the dining area, standing by their table and joking around about fried chicken or something. He headed back to the kitchen soon after, when the all-reserved tables started filling up, only popping out once or twice to bring some fresh pizzas or answer the phone while his wife, Sharon, was serving other customers (like us!).

Beyond all the rules and the hype and the experience, though, let’s get to the most important thing: the pizza. [Read more…]

I have a running theory on friendship, which maybe you’d like to hear? Essentially, it is this: If you find someone who won’t run away when you confess your love of cheesy country music or endlessly ridicule you when they see your high school yearbook, that’s someone worth hanging on to. Because, as we all know, it’s one thing to be liked when you’re on your game, and it’s quite another to be liked when you’re at your worst, wearing your glasses and that junior-high retainer at night or, geeking out to the complete lyrics of “The Broken Road” while the two of you ride in the car.

When you have been loved that way, without condition, like I have, it’s amazing how still unnatural it can feel to extend that love to others, how revelatory of your truest self. My friend Jackie’s better at it—you’d like her. When she comes over on a Saturday afternoon to expectations of going out for lunch and, instead, finds me, anxious, telling her I have two rising pizza doughs I don’t know what to do with and, Can we just stay here, only first we’ll have to go to the store and buy mozzarella? she doesn’t flinch. Then, when after coming home with groceries, we both recognize a near-deathly smell coming from the slimy asparagus that’s brown on the bottoms, which I’d had my heart set on making a salad with, she’s only happy to head right back to the same store, just before stopping by the train for a quick pick-up and returning to the kitchen to resume activities. Jackie’s the kind of friend that likes you even with your quirks; she’s flexible and forgiving.

And, if you’ll permit the analogy, this kind of friend is a lot like the right kind of recipe.

It’s one thing to have a recipe that’s fussy, giving good results when you do everything just perfectly, measuring exactly, following the proper order, keeping the room the right temperature—it’s like the friends who like hanging out with you on a Friday night when your hair’s curled and your lips glossed and your house immaculate—not bad to have, maybe necessary. But it’s another to find a recipe that’s flexible, that lets you change things around a little, that forgives mistakes and yields something good anyway. When you find that kind of recipe, like a companion, you hang on to it, no question.

Like this pizza crust.

Let me be frank: I did everything you’re not supposed to do with this recipe: I mixed it together Friday night before realizing I was out of olive oil (are you noticing a trend), which meant, you guessed it, I ran over to the store not once but three times this weekend. I let the soft, elastic ball of dough rise overnight instead of for an hour. I let the flattened discs of pizza-shaped dough rise all afternoon instead of for 30 minutes.

Nonetheless, in spite of me, these pizza crusts turned out beautifully—golden, flavorful, slightly chewy but with a good crunch, thick and sturdy. The first I topped with meat sauce (homemade, ala my mother, of course) and cheese; the second, with sauce, cheese and spinach Jackie chopped while we preheated the oven.

So take my advice and make this recipe around your schedule, whether that means putting together the dough and leaving for work all day or watching a movie and returning to shape it within an hour or two—it won’t matter. In fact, in a lot of ways, that’s when this dough will really shine, when it will show you its best self. And, trust me, you’ll see it’s worth hanging on to.

On the subject of things I love in recipes, this one demonstrates another: it features a bunch of ingredients that all get combined at once, to be mixed once. So simple! Feel free to top the pizzas with whatever you’d like; depending on how long you let the dough rise, you’ll be able to tell how substantial the crust looks, and mine held up to meaty sauce, cheese and spinach nicely.

Directions:
Combine and knead together all the ingredients (I used the dough hook on my stand mixer, turning the machine to a medium speed) until you’ve got a smooth, soft dough.

Allow the dough to rise, covered, for 1 hour (or, you know, all night long).

Divide the dough into two equal portions. Shape each piece into a 10” to 14” circle or rectangle, and place each on a piece of parchment paper or on a greased pan. Allow to rise for 30 minutes or so, covered (or, like I said, all morning while you do other things). Preheat the oven to 475 degrees F.

When you’re ready, and the crusts look nice and puffy, bake just the plain crusts (no toppings) for 8 minutes, until set; then add toppings and brush olive oil on the edges. Bake for an additional 4 minutes (I actually left them in there for around 15 minutes until they were nice and golden—just keep an eye on them).

Once when I was little, one of my teachers had our entire class over for a pizza party. What I remember most was standing on a stool at a counter, spooning sauce onto a circle of dough and getting to top it with white strings of cheese, feeling very grown up. That was probably the best party ever. I kind of loved that teacher but, mostly, I loved that pizza.

Here’s the truth: I could eat pizza every day. Sometimes I do. I like the fancy ones that cost $15 at a nice restaurant, the frozen ones in cardboard boxes at the grocery story, even mozzarella and tomato sauce heaped high on a bagel. In my book, pizza = good. Always.

So as far as pizza goes, it’s hard to make me hate one (though not impossible, thank you, Domino’s, when we ordered you the second time at work), it’s easy to make me like one and it’s, seriously, not that hard to make me really like one.

Even a hardcore pizza fan like myself has to admit that pizza made with your own hands far outshines any competition. And also, it just so happens I’m privileged to have an incredible mother who makes the most incredible meaty sauce you’ve ever had. Really. She froze a Tupperware container of it recently, and she gave it to me to use for a Sunday lunch. She should bottle it and sell it in grocery stores, it’s that good. And it’s perfect on pizza.

Sadly, this post is not about that sauce—mainly because she eyeballs things and feels her way around the recipe, and that sort of thing is very hard to communicate. Instead, this post is about two other things. 1) An easy pizza crust recipe that you really ought to try, and 2) A cookbook that, now, I am officially endorsing.

First, the pizza crust. When I was at Whole Foods this weekend, would you believe a frozen pizza, wrapped up and placed near the deli, cost $12? I suppose that’s not so bad when you think what it costs to buy one at Connie’s or Pizza Hut or, heck, even Domino’s, by way of comparison. But then, when you think how cheap the ingredients are for a good crust, it’s a shame not to do it yourself. You’ll need, essentially, the following: water, yeast, olive oil, flour (unbleached all-purpose or bread flour, which is what I used) and salt. Seriously. The process is just as simple: you’ll mix up and knead the dough, then let it rest, then finish kneading, then let it rest. Split it up into two sections and you’re ready to use it—or you can refrigerate it for tomorrow or freeze it for sometime later.

Before I go any further with the explanation of the pizza crust, I must get to the second thing: You really ought to buy The Art & Soul of Baking. After I got past the beautiful hardcover exterior and into the large pages of beautiful, colorful photos, I made its white bread, fougasse and (now) pizza crust, and I have to say I’m sold. Plus, it’s been endorsed by Dorie Greenspan, Anita Chu and Gourmet, where it was selected for the cookbook club. What more can I say?

OK, back to the pizza dough. Mine turned out very nicely, even though I may have pushed the first in the oven before it was fully preheated and pulled it out before the crust’s bottom was fully browned. Because the recipe makes two crusts, I shaped the first into a circle that fit our pizza pan; the second I sort of free-formed into a rectangle. Both were substantial—not as thin as I’d imagined—and held up with the toppings perfectly. I’ll be making the recipe again, no question, both because it’s simple and because, as you could guess, it’s delicious.

Directions:
MIX, REST & KNEAD DOUGH:
Pour the warm water into the bowl of the stand mixer. Add the yeast, whisk by hand to blend, and allow the mixture to sit for 5 to 10 minutes, until the yeast is activated and looks creamy. Add the 1 cup water and the 3 tablespoon olive oil and whisk by hand to blend. Add the flour and salt. Knead the dough on low speed for 2 minutes, or until it comes together in a cohesive mess. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a damp lint-free cotton towel and let the dough rest for 20 minutes to allow it to fully hydrate before further kneading. Turn the mixer to medium-low and continue to knead until the dough is firm, elastic, and smooth, 3 to 6 minutes. (Note: My mixer struggles with yeast-based mixing, and sometimes it jumps (!) off the hinge. Does this happen to anyone else?)

RISE THE DOUGH:
Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and let the dough rise at room temperature until doubled, 45 to 60 minutes (longer if the room is cold).

DIVIDE & SHAPE THE DOUGH:
Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface. Press down on the dough firmly to expel some of the air bubbles, but don’t knead the dough again or it will be too springy and difficult to shape (if this happens, simply cover the dough with plastic wrap or a damp lint-free cotton towel and let it rest for 10 to 15 minutes to give the gluten some time to relax). Divide the dough into half (or quarters if making smaller individual pizzas). At this point, you can refrigerate or freeze all or some of the dough (see “Getting Ahead” at the end of the recipe).

When ready to bake and after thawing out the dough if necessary, preheat the oven to 500 degrees F. Dust the top of the dough lightly with flour, then press down with your fingers (or use a rolling pin) to flatten the dough into a disk about 12 inches in diameter. Alternatively, slip your hands, knuckles up, under the dough and lift it up, then gently stretch the dough by pulling your fists apart. Rotate the dough a little each time you pull so the dough is stretch into an even circle. Brush any excess flour from the surface and underside of the dough.

TOP THE PIZZA:
Apply the toppings of your choice, leaving a 1/2 –inch border at the edges. (If you’re curious, here’s what I did: olive oil on the pizza pan, then the crust on top of that. Drizzle olive oil on top and indent all over with a fork to help the oil soak through. I covered it with Mom’s meat sauce, then loads of mozzarella, then shredded fresh spinach.)

BAKE THE PIZZA:
Bake for 7 to 9 minutes, until the dough is golden brown at the edges and across the bottom (use a metal spatula to lift the pizza slightly to check). Brush the edges of the pizza with the 1 tablespoon olive oil to give the golden crust a beautiful shine. Use a pizza cutter or chef’s knife to cut the pizza into 8 wedges and serve immediately.

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